


(don't wanna be an) American Idiot

by thescrewtapedemos



Series: Do You Still Believe in One Another (Hey Brother) [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Gen, Swearing, gavin and geoff as adopted family forever and ever, mavin is endgame probably lbr here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescrewtapedemos/pseuds/thescrewtapedemos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things Geoff is good at:<br/>-singing<br/>-writing lyrics<br/>-drinking whiskey</p><p>Things Geoff is not good at:<br/>-playing any instrument ever<br/>-being sober<br/>-accepting things from people who are just <i>trying to help Geoff godDAMNIT</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Jungle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is gonna be a series or something?? nice  
> title of the work from that one song by that one band with the color in its name or something, it's really ironic cause gavin's a brit  
> title of the chapter is the title of a song by some band no one's ever heard of probably

It’s not usually this bad.

His stomach churns and his hands shake a little bit. Geoff feels a little removed from himself, watching as his hands tip whiskey into his glass of coke. It’s maybe not the best for his voice but he needs something to occupy himself with.

It’s just a show, and not even their biggest one, but. Geoff tries not to think about it. 

Backstage is a mess of wandering roadies and band members, cords ripe to be tripped on and instruments lying around as if they aren’t the most valuable thing most of their players possessed. Everything is a little echo-y and he wonders if he should sit down for a while. The band onstage slams into their next song. It’s loud and angry, which is to say good. The band had been really cool, had a name starting with a Y, Yog-something? 

Geoff feels a little sorry he can’t concentrate to enjoy it, but he mostly just feels ill. 

Kerry nods to him on his way past, an amp almost as tall as he is balanced on a frail-looking dolly. It takes Geoff a few seconds to process and by the time he’s caught up enough to nod back Kerry is ten feet behind him, swearing at the wheels of his equipment.

“Alright, Geoff?” An affable hand lands on his shoulder and Geoff shouts in surprise, swings around and almost catches Gavin in his admittedly generous nose with a flailing hand. Whiskey and Coke go all over the far wall, but judging from the stains it's seen worse.

“Gavin.” He acknowledges, panting. “Shit, man, you startled me.”

“Bloody fuck.” Gavin squeaked in reply, eyes comically wide and a hand cupped protectively over the middle of his face. “Apparently. Watch the face, yeah? The ladies love it.”

Geoff snorts breathlessly on principal but doesn't really have the concentration to really get into ragging on Gavin's self-esteem. 

"You're a bit manky, mate." Gavin offers, tone an odd mixture of laughter and concern. It'd be heartwarming if Geoff weren't so busy dealing with stress-induced heartburn. 

"Manky? What the fuck does that... fucking hell, Gavin, I'm fine." Geoff knuckles at his eyes and wishes desperately for the whiskey drying on the wall opposite. 

Gavin watches him carefully for a moment. 

“You sure? You’re looking a bit, ah, ill?” His attempt at diplomacy, typically Gavin-ish, falls a little flat. 

“I look like shit.” Geoff replies flatly, cuffing the back of Gavin’s head so gently it might as well have been a friendly hair-ruffle. Gavin squawks and ducks away. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just a friend of mine in the audience.” 

“Some friend if you’re this minged about them being here.” Gavin observes. Geoff shakes his head and rubs his face again, distractedly. His stubble's getting out of hand, and Jack occupies the oft-joked about position of lead beard. He should find the time to shave. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He mutters, and then blinks that away. “Did you have something important to tell me? Or were you just checking in out of the goodness of your heart.” 

Gavin’s sudden and extremely guilty facial twitch makes him cross his arms and raise an eyebrow. 

“I was, er. Going to tell you I broke my um.” He pauses and winces. “My g-string.” 

Geoff stares at him blankly. Gavin stares back. 

Silence – bar the distant strains of roaring guitars – reigns for several long minutes. 

“I’ll just go.” Gavin offers, sounding strangled. 

“You do that.” Geoff replies, voice dead. 

Gavin backs away under Geoff’s stare until he’s around the corner and out of sight, and then the pounding of footsteps told him Gavin was running. Geoff wants a whiskey _so badly_. 

“Uh, sir?” 

Geoff pivots. Caleb flinches at his expression. 

“I’ve told you a _million times_ , Denecour, it’s just Geoff.” He growls. “What now.”

“You guys are up in five.” Caleb replies weakly. 

Geoff freezes for a moment, then swears and takes off running after Gavin.


	2. Love (Such As It Is)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from some ludo song idk

When Geoff’s onstage, with a mic in his hand and nothing between the crowd and a riot but his voice, nothing fazes him. He’s a god, or close enough to it for the crowd in front of him. They rope whoever they can into playing drums – today it’s Caleb – or do without. Jack functions okay as a bass and it’s punk, it’s so much better when it’s messy and unconventional. 

Even seeing Burnie bop around in the crowd like a fucking teenie at a boy band concert isn’t enough to break his high. He thinks abstractly that he can see why so many bands get into coke and heroin to chase this feeling as he slams into the bridge of their last song. 

Gavin is doing something obscene with the guitar and his hips but he’s already fallen offstage twice so Geoff assumes he’s filled his quota and will be okay. Jack’s bearing down on edge of the stage like a thundercloud and the crowd, far from intimidated, is screaming for it. 

Geoff wouldn’t give this up if God _himself_ rode a golden chariot right by.

-(o)-

The high only lasts as long as it takes to down his first shot, slam it on the bar and find Burnie staring at him silently.

“Not fucking now.” Geoff growls. Their band – named Geoff and the Boys for the moment but who _knows_ how long that’ll last – was the headliner for the night and the crowd is winding down and trickling out. 

Geoff doesn’t want to get into the traditional screaming match with anyone else around. 

“I haven’t even said anything yet.” Burnie tell him sarcastically. Rolling his eyes so hard it hurts, Geoff gestures for another shot. “You should know me better than that, this is probably the fiftieth goddamn time.”

Geoff laughs mirthlessly and slams the second shot. He doesn’t even taste it, too busy glaring at Burnie. “Same old, right? Going to offer me your goddamn pity and a charity deal.” 

He spits on the floor, to get the taste out of his mouth and to make his opinion on the matter clear. 

"Geoff I swear to Christ, it's not fucking charity!" Burnie retorts. Geoff crosses his arms and looked away, balling his hands into angry fists. 

"No, Burnie." Geoff replies, voice deadly and quiet. Burnie huffs out a frustrated sigh through his nose and shakes his head.

"Geoff." Gavin voice interrupts the ringing silence, uncharacteristically uncertain. He’s watching them nervously, Jack a silent wall behind him, and Geoff isn’t certain when they arrived. He _hates_ when the kid looks cautious, it reminds him of how young he is and then he gets all sorts of awful paternal instincts. It’s gross and he wants _no part of it_. "Who’s this? What's he talking about?" 

Geoff opens his mouth angrily but Burnie beats him to the punch. 

"I’m Burnie, friend of Geoff’s. I work for Roosterteeth, the label? I want to sign your band." He explains tiredly. "You've got a lot of potential," he directs at Geoff, "it's not fucking charity." 

"That’s this biggest goddamn lie-" Geoff begins to tell him angrily, but he’s cut off by Jack's slow voice. 

"Geoff, wait." 

The look Geoff gives him is pure betrayal. 

"You're not the only member of this band." Jack reminds him. "Gavin and I should get a say." 

“ _Fuck_.” Geoff exhales, then jabs a finger into Burnie’s face. “ _You_ don’t go anywhere. I’m calling a band meeting.” 

He can hear Burnie laughing as he drags his boys backstage but he ignores it in favor of finding them a nice little corner to whisper in. He’s not allowed to start any more fights in this venue even if the prick really _really_ deserves it. 

“We are _not_ accepting help from him.” He begins, crossing his arms and glaring each of them in the eye in turn. “We can do this on our own.” 

“But Geoff! Roosterteeth!” Gavin cries, looking like Geoff just stole his puppy or something equally horrendous. He’s too sober to deal with this. 

“Gavin.” He says tiredly. “I can’t let us accept stuff like this. It’s not…” he takes a moment, searching for the right words to frame the feeling. “It’s not right. We have to earn it.” He finishes lamely, but Gavin gets it. A little at least. It’s the reason they function as a band at all, short any sort of percussion and fronted by a functional alcoholic. 

“Geoff.” Jack stops him quietly. “I think we did earn this. Burnie doesn’t just hand all of his friends label sign-ups, you know, and I don’t think he could anyway. There’s rules and shit like that.” 

About to interrupt angrily, Geoff pauses. He thinks about it, catches Gavin looking at him so fucking hopefully. Those gross paternal feeling rear up again and he almost wants to go grab himself some more whiskey. He’s so tired he would probably kill a man without blinking if it meant he could sleep for a few hours. 

Burnie was going to gloat so hard. 

“ _Fuck_.” He huffs, all heartfelt resentment and resignation. Gavin lights up like a goddamn lighthouse. “We're gonna need a solid name. And a drummer, at least. A bass too, I know we’ve written stuff that needs a bass guitar." 

Jack doesn’t bother to deny it, a spark catching in his gaze now. Gavin’s dancing in place like an utter fucking idiot. Geoff can feel his cheeks flushing at the new possibilities. Not even the prospect of having to tell Burnie that he finally agreed is enough to dim that. Much. 

Jack, unexpectedly, grins. 

"You know, I think I may have just the guy..."

-(o)-

Ray is little in a way that reminds Geoff a bit of some sort of Zen monk, like there’s a lot of energy packed in there and it’s only let out under controlled circumstances. He’s a cute kid, all told, but he looks about fourteen and Geoff has enough trouble on his hands without inadvertently kidnapping some yuppie’s child and absconding on tour. One accidental kidnapping was enough and even though the police had been very understanding and it had been Gavin’s fault anyway, he didn’t have the energy to handle it.

He’s got beat-up drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket, though, that’s a good sign. 

“Kid, how old are you?” he demands, frowning. Ray frowns right back and Geoff has to respect someone with eyebrows that ferocious. 

“Eighteen!” he replies indignantly. Geoff refrains from demanding ID, barely. 

“Top!” Gavin exclaims, unable to contain himself. He’s jumping in place like a child. “I’m nineteen!” Ray stares at him. 

“…Top?” Ray asks, already suffering from that special kind of Gavin-induced confusion. He looks so lost Geoff almost takes pity on him, but Gavin’s already miles ahead. 

"What instruments do you play?" he demands, leaning across the table with a stern look on his face utterly at odds with the gravity-defying swoop of hair above. Ray stares back, eyes valiantly avoiding Gavin's nose. 

"I'm probably best with drums, but I can play guitar and bass. And um, violin? And cello. And viola, but that's basically a small violin. Some trumpet, mostly jazz. And I can do a bit with the saxophone? Not amazingly but um... still..." 

He trails off in the face of Gavin and Geoff's incredulous stare. Jack watches in satisfaction. 

"Harmonica?" He offers weakly after a long silence. Gavin sputters an attempt at actual words but gives up after the first 'bloody _hell_ '.

"Told you I could find someone." Jack says smugly. Geoff flips him off but doesn’t remove the intensity of his stare from Ray's face. The kid’s expression is pure trepidation but he holds his gaze for a valiant amount of time. Geoff likes him already.

“Kid, no offense, but I really hope you can’t sing.” He sighs, and sits back. “We’ll jam a bit, so how you fit in, but as far as I’m concerned you’re good.” 

Ray’s smile could cure cancer, probably, and Gavin’s clutching at his arm like he wants to pull it off and he thinks _yeah, maybe this could work_.


End file.
